Off the Charts
by RangerLuv2
Summary: Babe story. Mostly fluff. There's some angst, but it's humorous angst. Ranger pushes Steph to make a choice. M rating is for language. It's my first fanfic. Hope you like it.


Not mine. Characters belong to JE. I'm just messing around with them and applying a little wishful thinking.

Off the Charts

Chapter 1

This sucked. Big time. Of all the crazy things that could happen, Ranger decided it was a good idea to make a TV commercial to promote Rangeman's residential security services. Not that commercials are a bad thing. The bad part was, he wanted Rangeman employees to be in the commercial. After interviewing a dozen Rangeman workers, the director had selected Lester and me to play a husband and wife who had just had a new Rangeman security system installed in our home.

We'd just completed the first shoot and were sitting in front of a very discouraged director. After twelve takes, he still couldn't get what he wanted from us. Ranger, Lester and I were seated in his office, watching the man drum his fingers on his big mahogany desk.

"This," the director said, waving at a video monitor, "is the reason we use actors instead of amateurs. Look!" He pressed a button and the commercial we shot starting playing on the screen.

It showed Lester demonstrating to me how easy it was to use the remote that goes with the alarm system. I watched the scene play out and it looked pretty good to me. The problem came about when there was a knock at the door. The camera angle cut to the front door of the house and showed me opening the door to a Rangeman worker who had stopped by to make a follow-up visit. He was checking to make sure we were happy with our new system. He was tall and dark with bone melting brown eyes and it was rather surprising that his considerable sex appeal hadn't melted the film in the camera. He was none other than Ranger.

Ranger looked over at me and grinned as this part played on the screen. He was also grinning in the commercial. Not smiling, like a representative of the company would normally do on a home visit, he was giving me that famous wolfish grin on camera.

The director, whose name was Bob, stopped the video. "That!" he said, pointing at the screen. "Why does it look like the Rangeman employee is going to walk through the door and whisk the housewife off to bed?"

Lester chuckled, Ranger grinned and I turned three shades of red. He was right. Ranger on camera looked like he was there to pick me up for a hot date, not check to see if my husband, Lester, and I liked our new security system.

"The two of you should have told me you were involved before we started the shoot," the director stated flatly. "Without being a trained actor, it's hard to control that kind of obvious lust and attraction on film. The camera doesn't lie."

"What!" I exclaimed. "We're, uh, Ranger and I are not involved."

The director shook his head. "Save it, Miss Plum. It's written all over your faces. You two could melt an igloo from 100 feet away. You're no doubt personally responsible for global warming." He pressed the button to play the rest of the video. "Look at the way you're looking back at him, Miss Plum. Like he's your sexy knight in shining armor who has arrived to carry you away and ravish your body. For Christ's sake, your nipples got hard and showed through your blouse. If I was shooting a commercial for an erotic romance novel, I'd be all set."

Lester dissolved in a fit of laughter and I threw him a large dose of my best pissed off Burg Girl stare. "I'm sorry, Beautiful," he sputtered. "He's right. You two are sizzling like a couple pieces of bacon in a hot skillet." He slid his mischievous eyes to Ranger. "I wish you wouldn't look at my wife that way, Rangeman. Ow ow ow ouch! Sizzle, sizzle!"

"Enough, Santos!" Ranger barked out.

Strangely, I don't think Ranger really objected to the conversation, but he could see that I was embarrassed, and as always, his natural instinct was to protect me.

I couldn't look at any of them at this point. I was now six shades of red rather than three. Any redder and my face would match Connie's nail polish and lipstick. I leaped from the leather sofa and bolted out of the director's office. I took off down the hallway toward a door that had an exit sign, pushed it open, and hit the sidewalk running, hoping I was headed toward downtown Newark and our hotel.

Less than three blocks later, I was winded, of course, and slowed down to take a few deep breaths. I glanced to my right and discovered that I was standing next to a coffee shop. Through the window, I could see a glass display case with freshly baked cakes, pies and donuts. Mmm, donuts. Just what I needed to soothe my jangled nerves. I took a deep breath, walked into the coffee shop and sat in a booth near the back.

Ten minutes later, I was sipping fresh, hot coffee and working my way through the goodies I'd ordered from the tiny blonde, gum snapping waitress. _Stupid commercial_, I thought to myself as I stabbed a piece of banana cream pie and slid it into my mouth. _Stupid director_, I thought as I bit into a Boston creme donut. "Stupid Lester," I muttered softly, as I sliced off a piece of German chocolate cake and stuffed it in my mouth.

"Oh my god, that's good," I said to no one in particular. I was just getting ready to plan what I should do once my sugar induced coma took over when I felt that familiar tingle on the back of my neck. I paused with a fork full of cake halfway to my mouth and looked up into an amused pair of soft chocolate eyes.

"Is there a frikkin tracker in my purse?" I asked him with a frown.

"Babe."

I sighed and motioned for him to take a seat. He wasn't the one I was angry with anyway. Except the commercial had been his idea. Not really sure why he decided to promote the residential side of the business when we could barely keep up with the commercial accounts.

"Expanding," he said, sliding into the booth across from me.

I raised my eyebrows in an attempt to communicate with him using less than one word.

"From now on, the residential accounts will be separate from the commercial accounts. Rangeman will be the parent company, but the residential accounts will be handled by a new staff set up on the second floor," he explained.

"Will we call the new division Home Home on the Rangeman?" I asked, straining to keep a straight face.

Ranger's mouth started to tilt up in a smile, but the tiny blonde waitress made her way back over to the table and refilled my coffee, effectively killing the moment. She looked at Ranger and he nodded, so she grabbed a new cup and saucer from a nearby cart and filled the cup for him. She shuffled away after attempting to hand him a menu which he declined with a small shake of his head.

I couldn't help but notice how silent communication had expanded from Trenton to Newark. Interesting. Maybe it had always been this way and I hadn't noticed. Maybe Lula, Connie, Mare and I talk so much we think everyone else should be loquacious too. Nah, that wasn't it. Maybe Ranger had almost everyone under his spell. The question was, whose spell was Ranger under? He just ordered coffee with caffeine in the middle of the day. Defiling the temple for no apparent reason.

"Babe?"

I snapped out of my reverie and looked at the gorgeous hunk across from me. "What?"

His mouth tilted slightly at the edges. "I was just wondering where everyone else is going to sit?" He raked his eyes across the many desserts spread across the table.

"Sorry to disappoint. It's just the two of us."

"If only that were true."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "If that's a veiled reference to Joe, you know we've been broken up for over a month now."

"Until you decide to go back," Ranger said, forking off a piece of cherry cobbler and holding the fork to my lips.

I decided to ignore the comment. We've been down that road more than once. "What? No lecture on how this stuff will kill me?" I leaned toward the bite of cobbler and noticed that his eyes were locked on my mouth as I opened it to accept the bite. I thought I saw him squirm in his seat. Well good. He's made me squirm more times than I can count.

"Babe."

My eyes locked on his and I realized I'd either said that out loud or he was getting even more proficient at reading my thoughts. "So, what did Bob decide to do about the commercial?" I asked, changing the subject again.

Dreamy, soft brown eyes smiled at me with a hint of humor dancing in them. "He's changing the roles. We'll film a new version on Monday. Lester will be the friendly, helpful Rangeman employee and I'll be your husband."

Chapter 2 - Ranger's POV

After walking Steph back to the hotel and seeing that she was safely returned to her room, I let myself into my own room, across the hall, and headed for the shower.

I wanted to have dinner with her, but couldn't decide if I should take her out or suggest that we order in, so I'd put off making the decision. When we'd walked past a set of empty conference rooms near the hotel desk, an idea started to form in my mind.

By the time I stepped out of the shower, I had a plan. I was going to roll the dice in an attempt to get Stephanie into my life permanently. I know she loves the cop, but my gut tells me it's more out of habit than anything else. My gut also tells me she loves me more and would probably already be with me if I hadn't screwed things up in the past. One thing I know, for sure, is that I can't watch her go back to him again. It's past time to cut the string on the yo-yo.

I want her. I need her in my life. In my life, my bed, my business. She already owns my heart and I've finally accepted the fact that that isn't going to change. Not in this lifetime. It would be complicated, because everything is complicated when it comes to Steph, but not any more complicated than the head games I play with myself when I try to deny the inevitable. Not any more complicated that putting the pieces of my heart back together each time it gets ripped apart when I check her GPS and see that her car is parked on Slater Street.

I told her I don't do relationships, but that's laughable at this point. We work together, laugh together, we're best friends. We have lunch together 3 or 4 times a week at work and dinner together in the 7th floor penthouse 2 or 3 times a week. We have a relationship. It just needs to move up a level to include my bed. And, it has to be exclusive.

Not that much would change, really, except that I'd have to take a lot fewer cold showers. If we become a couple, I'll be able to do something about those hard-ons that occur almost every time I hear her voice, her laughter, see her smile, gaze into her crystal blue eyes, think back on that one night ...

I'd sleep better at night knowing she wasn't alone in that drab, unsecured apartment. I'd sleep better knowing she always had enough food and gas and hamster nuggets every day of her life. I'd just plain sleep better. I could give her all the little gifts I've bought over the years and tucked away in the safe for 'someday.' She'd sleep better too, she always does when she's in my arms.

I picked up the hotel phone and dialed the front desk to work out the details of my plan. When that was settled, I called room service and ordered a ton of food and an entire cheesecake and told them to deliver it to conference room 4-D at 7:00 PM.

Next, I grabbed a piece of hotel stationery and made a list. When the list was finished, I took it to the conference room and copied it onto a white board. It was one of those boards that was on a stand and you could flip it over to use the other side. I flipped it over and wrote out the list again. When I was finished, I covered the board with a large bath towel I'd brought from my room.

It was almost truth time. I locked the conference room door so no one could accidentally wander in and see the list, then made my way back to my room.

In the bathroom, I splashed my face with cold water. I was starting to get cold feet and I don't do cold feet. Not even in Moscow. In the winter. _Buck up, soldier. It's now or never_.

I called Steph's phone at 6:00 PM so she'd have enough time to shower and change if she wanted to.

"Yo," she answered.

"Yo, yourself, Babe. I was wondering if you'd like to combine dinner with filling out a little questionnaire in the conference room tonight."

"Questionnaire? I thought we were off work for the weekend, except for the commercial."

"We are. This is more personal."

She hesitated.

"I ordered an entire cheesecake."

"What time?"

I could hear the smile in her voice. "Seven PM, conference room 4-D. It's down the first hallway to the right of the front desk."

"I'll meet you there, Batman. Gotta shower and change."

Chapter 3

I'd been surfing Macy's website on my laptop, but powered down and closed it when Ranger called promising dinner and cheesecake. And a questionnaire? What was that all about? It made me a little nervous when he said it was personal, but then I realized it was probably one of those preventive health care questionnaires that Rangeman's insurance company sends out once a year.

I was curious as to why it couldn't wait until we were back at the office, but I certainly wasn't going to turn down dinner and cheesecake with Batman. Dinner, yum. Cheesecake, yum, yum. Batman, yum, yum, yum. I scooted off the bed and headed for the shower.

I showered, shaved, exfoliated and slathered on some mango scented body lotion, then slipped into a matching pale blue push-up bra and panty set. I hadn't brought a lot of clothes with me, but decided my soft light blue denim skirt and a white V-neck cotton-knit tee would work just fine. After doing my hair and makeup, I slipped on my beige leather sandals and checked the clock. Perfect. It was 6:56 PM.

Three minutes later, I opened the door to conference room 4-D and found Ranger waiting inside. He smiled as he scanned me from head to toe. "You look great, Babe. You painted your toenails."

I returned his smile. "I paint my toenails pretty often."

"Too bad I don't get to see them more often."

I felt the temperature rise ten degrees in the room, but was spared having to reply when someone knocked on the door.

"That should be dinner," Ranger said, crossing the room to open the door.

A young sandy-haired guy, about 20 or 21 wheeled in a cart filled with covered dishes. He asked Ranger if he'd like the plates and dishes transferred from the cart to one of the conference tables, but Ranger declined and handed him a tip.

I immediately sidled up to the cart and started looking under the lids. "Wow. You went all out, Batman. There's a lot of food here. Is Lester joining us?"

"No. I talked to Les a little while ago. He's in the hotel bar trolling for woman."

"I smiled and rolled my eyes. "Of course he is. It's what he does best."

Ranger grinned and pulled out a chair. "Have a seat m'lady."

Hmm, m'lady? Ranger romance? Nah. I took the seat he offered and waited while he filled our plates and placed them on the table.

Chicken Alfredo, breaded deep-fried mushrooms, green beans with slivered almonds and crusty French bread with sweet cream butter for me. Holy cow, breaded deep fried mushrooms? If I didn't know any better, I'd think Batman was in love to allow such a thing.

Ranger filled his plate with grilled salmon, salad and some of the green beans with slivered almonds.

He filled our wine glasses and we ate in silence for a few minutes, except for me thanking him a couple of times and letting him know how delicious everything tasted.

"De nada, Babe. I'm glad you're enjoying it."

Once my stomach was mostly full, I let my curiosity take over and asked about the questionnaire. "Is this an insurance thing?"

Ranger put down his fork, pushed his plate away and crossed his arms on the table. "No, Babe. Nothing to do with insurance. I mentioned on the phone it was personal."

I wrinkled my brow. "Yeah, I remember, but I still thought it was work related, somehow. No?"

"No." Ranger, shifted in his seat. Ranger nerves? No way.

"Babe. I wanted to try to help you make a decision."

"Okay. About what?"

"About Morelli ... and ... me."

There was a loud gasp in the room and I think it came from me. "Wha ... what kind of decision?"

"About who you really want to be with."

I was dumbfounded. "I have options?"

"Yes. I'm hoping you never go back to the cop. I want you for myself."

"But ... but you don't do ..."

"Babe," he interrupted. "I know what I said in the past, but things have changed. I've come to realize that my life is so much better with you in it than it was without you. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make a relationship work."

I got up from my chair and walked in a slow circle around the conference table. What the hell was happening here? Batman was offering me a relationship? Maybe I heard him wrong. Maybe he was trying to send me back to Morelli again. No, he said he didn't want me to go back. My stomach was getting queasy and I felt lightheaded.

"Something's burning, Babe."

"Huh?" Suddenly I realized Batman was still in the room. Was he waiting for an answer? Was he going to explain what this was all about? I flopped back down in my chair and tried to think of something to say. "What the hell is going on?" I blurted out.

"Babe. You and Morelli have been split up for a month. I'm worried that it's about the time you're starting to think about going back. I don't want you to go back."

"I already told you that I'm not going back."

"Steph, you say that every time, but you always go back. Do you love him?"

"Omigod. Uh. Well, yes and no."

"Do you love me, Steph?"

"What?"

Ranger chuckled. He actually chuckled. "I love you, Babe, and I want to know if you love me."

"I haven't even tried the cheesecake yet."

"Steph."

"Yes! Okay, are you happy, damnit? Yes, I love you. Can we drop it now? Can we?" I begged.

"Wow. And I thought I had trouble talking about feelings. You're a wreck." Ranger forked off a piece of cheesecake and held the fork to my mouth. "Babe, have some sugar and calm down. It'll be okay. Really."

I took a deep breath, then leaned across the table to eat the bite of cheesecake Ranger was offering. "Oh god, that's good. I feel better already." I took the fork from him and ate six more large bites.

"Better?" Ranger asked, gracing me with a small smile.

"Well, I don't think I'm going to faint or hyperventilate now."

"Good to know. Are you ready to hear about the questionnaire?"

I looked up from the cheesecake and my eyes locked with his. "Wait. This questionnaire is supposed to help me decide between you and Morelli?"

"Yes. I figure even if I asked you to move in with me right now and you said yes, that as soon as you set your suitcases down in my apartment, you'd start worrying about whether or not you did the right thing. Am I correct?"

"Move in?" I quickly scarfed down four more bites of cheesecake.

"I"m just sayin'. You'd have doubts right?"

"Probably," I admitted.

"Well, maybe once you look at things in a logical, methodical way, it'll be clearer to you. It's better than all the back and forth that goes on in your head, right?"

I thought about that for a minute. "I guess so. Probably."

"Good." Ranger got up and picked up a coffee cup from the dinner cart. He filled it with coffee from a carafe and added cream and sugar.

Placing the coffee in front of me, he gestured toward the white board across the room. "The questionnaire is printed on the white board. One side is for me, the other side is for the cop. All you have to do is rate each of us on a scale from one to ten in ten different categories. Once you're finished, add up the total score for each of us and see how we come out."

I really, really, really try not to do this, but I knew without checking that my mouth was hanging open. Ranger wanted me to rate him and Joe on a scale of one to ten? Surely not. Why don't I just post them both on Hot or Not? Holy cow!

"Babe?"

"Uh. Okay. That's it?"

"Yep. That simple. I'll leave you alone so you can have some privacy. You've got coffee and cheesecake and should be all set. Unless there is something else I can get you before you get started?"

"No. I'm good." I'm freaking out inside, but I'm not telling him that. One hour to decide my future by rating the two most important men in my life? Omigod!

Chapter 4

Ranger left the room, closing the door softly on his way out. I rose quickly from my chair and headed over to the white board. I was nervous as hell, but the curiosity was killing me. I had to find out what kind of things Batman expected me to rate them on.

I yanked the bath towel off the board and started scanning the questions. They started out pretty normal. Honesty, dependability, nurturing & supportive. Then my eyes bugged out. What? Quality of orgasms? "Is he kidding me?" I screeched to the empty room.

I rushed back to the table and devoured a dozen more bites of cheesecake. I could feel my cheeks burning. Holy hell, holy hell, holy hell. Was he really asking me to compare a Joe orgasm with a Ranger orgasm and give him the results? Not that I hadn't already done the comparison in my mind. I just never had any intention of sharing the information. Especially with him. My hands were shaking so badly, a bite of cheesecake jumped right off my fork. This was totally unacceptable. I needed to get a grip. What if my nerves were so out of whack I could never eat dessert again? Fuck!

Part of me really wanted to answer the questions and tally up the final scores. Another part of, namely my entire body, was shaking like a leaf. Possibly, there wasn't enough cheesecake in the world to get me through this. How will I be able to face Ranger when he comes back in the room if Joe comes out with the higher score?

"Screw this!" I bellowed to the empty room. "It's now or never!" The curiosity was killing me, so I made a decision. I'd just pretend I was doing a Cosmo quiz and that I was the only one who was going to see it. If I absolutely had to, I could erase the board before Ranger came back, but at least I'd know the answer.

I put down my fork and headed back over to the board. Selecting a blue marker, I began to enter scores in each column.

Once I started entering the scores, it didn't seem all that traumatic. For the most part, they were reasonable questions. I still found the sex questions unnerving, but it's a big part of a relationship, right? Well, at least it would be with me and either one of these hunks.

I finished just before the hour was up. I was busy flipping the board back and forth, checking and double checking my entries and my math when I felt the tingle on the back of my neck and knew Ranger had slipped back into the room.

The side with Joe's score was facing us as I turned from the board to look into Ranger's eyes. Our gaze held for a moment, then his eyes shifted to the board and quickly scanned down the right side and finally to the bottom where the total was circled in blue marker.

His blank face slammed into place. Clearly, he wasn't pleased, in spite of the fact that his blank face gave nothing away. Without a word, he turned back to the door and put his hand on the knob. "Thanks for taking the survey, Steph."

Before he could turn the knob, I said, "Don't you want to know your score, Ranger?"

He hesitated and I could see that his jaw was clenched. "No, thanks, Babe." Then he reluctantly turned to look at me. "The highest possible score was 100 and Morelli has a score of 112. I guess that's above perfect. Not even on my best day can I reach perfect. Believe, me, I know. You've told me that I'm stubborn, over protective, too secretive, bossy, arrogant." He turned back to the door and turned the knob.

"Ranger." I flipped the board over. "I really think you should look at your score before you leave."

I saw him inhale sharply. I'd never seen Batman this off kilter. I could tell he was struggling to make a decision. Finally, he turned slowly and glanced at the board. A moment of confusion flashed across his face and then it was gone. He shifted his eyes to me, back to the board and finally to me again.

In four long strides he was across the room and caught me as I jumped up into his arms. "Babe," he said breathlessly as he buried his face in my hair.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. "Have any questions about your score, Batman?"

He leaned back to look at me. "Yeah, what do I need to do to bring that 457 up to an even 500?"

"You already know how to bring it up," I told him. "You just need to follow through more often."

"You can toss the shower massager, Babe. I'm all over this," he said, as his mouth crashed down on mine.

The end.


End file.
